


Honey

by fuzzyalarmclock



Category: The Good Fight (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzyalarmclock/pseuds/fuzzyalarmclock
Summary: Like two magnets, polar opposites, but they keep drawing towards each other, unable to ignore whatever forces pulls them back together.*Diane and Kurt go house-hunting. Set after 2x11.





	1. Chapter 1

Diane likes living alone.

She still remembers the day she moved out of the apartment she shared with her best friend. At almost 30, she was finally making enough money as a lawyer to afford her own place. That first year, she remembers the exhilaration of coming home to a space that was hers and hers alone. She expected the novelty to wear off, but after a long day at work, she still enjoyed coming home to her own space. A sigh of relief every time she crossed the threshold.

She's never lived with a man before. There had been men, of course, some of them serious, others not so, but never anyone who had stayed. It feels immature to be crossing that particular milestone at retirement age, but she was never one to do things traditionally.

All those years alone may have made her a tad inflexible. She comes to this conclusion after spending a solid weekend house hunting with Kurt. Despite his protests, she's already persuaded him to live in the city, stating the farthest afield she would go was Oak Park. Of course, he has a cabin of his own, which makes it easier for him to accept city life with her.

They've looked at charming 1920s homes and more modern townhouses, both her style. Kurt kept spotting fixer upper properties in up and coming neighborhoods she wouldn't even consider but she goes to look at them anyway. At the third of these, Kurt approaches her as she looks at the small space out back, intended to be a yard, but the only green is the weeds sticking up out of a giant concrete slab.

“You hate it.” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“I don't.” Her voice is firm, careful not to waver. “It's just hard for me to imagine it fully realized.”

“You've barely said a word at the last two places.” Kurt is stoic, as always, but it's easy for her to picture how his brow will furrow with confusion and disappointment when she admits he's right, she hates it.

“I'm tired,” she lies. “Can we talk about this over lunch?”

As if on cue, Kurt's stomach rumbles and she laughs, the moment breaking the tension between them. “I know a place down the street.” His hand at the small of her back guides her through the house, pausing to tell their realtor they want to talk about their options over lunch.

The place Kurt knows has a distinct, old school lodge feel to it, which makes her chuckle. She doesn't know how he finds all these perfectly him places in a city the size of Chicago. It must be some sort of animal magnetism. It's how she thinks of him, of them. Like two magnets, polar opposites, but they keep drawing towards each other, unable to ignore whatever forces pulls them back together.

Over his sandwich and her salad (and stealing his fries), he broaches the subject again. “I'm guessing the last three places weren't really your style.”

She tilts her head, conceding his point. “I admit I'm not excited about the idea of construction. I work long hours and when I come home, I want to relax, not be worrying about whether we have hot water.”

“I assure you we will always have hot water.” He places a hand on top of hers and gives her fingers a quick squeeze. “But if you don't want to do construction, that's okay. Cross it off the list.”

“That eliminates all your choices.”

“It's okay,” he says again.

“It's not,” she insists. “You said yourself you wanted this to be our place. It can't be ours if I'm the one making all the decisions.”

“Honestly?” she nods at him to go on. “I never thought I would get you to agree to live with me,” he pauses, his eyebrow arching. “So I'm willing to make some sacrifices in this area.”

She lets out a surprised laugh, because a couple weeks ago, she couldn't imagine them reconciling, much less moving in together. “But I did.” She raises her eyebrows back at him, as if to say, _checkmate_. A smile stretches across her face before leaning across the table to kiss him. Afterwards, she wipes at his lips with her thumb. She's always leaving lipstick marks on his mouth. He doesn't seem to mind. “You've already made sacrifices for this.” She points out. “You took the FBI job.”

“It's a good job.” He replies, measuring her gaze with his own before relenting. “Look, I'm not keeping count. I want to be with you. That's the most important part of this for me.”

She's used to putting up a fight, so the ease with which Kurt lets her get her way still surprises her. “That's very sweet, but I don't want to pick the place and then in six months, you resent me for it.”

“That's not going to happen.”

“You say that now,” she teases. “Let me have a sip of that.” She nods at his beer. She hadn't ordered a drink because she wanted to keep a level head, but if this is going to turn into them arguing in circles, she might need it.

He hands it over to her. “Okay, if we're eliminating my fixer uppers, can we knock the South Loop off the list? I'm not that kind of Chicago.”

She takes a long sip straight from the bottle and sets it down with a satisfying thunk. “See, that's what I'm talking about,” she says admiringly. “It's off the list.”

“Which leaves Oak Park.” Diane makes a face. “What? You were the one who said Oak Park was the end of the line.”

“I know,” she relents. “Doesn't it seem...a tad domestic?” A look of disbelief crosses Kurt's face before he bursts out laughing. She smiles because she loves the sound of his laugh. “What?”

“Diane, we've been together, apart, engaged, married, separated, almost divorced, but you're worried about being _domestic_!?” He shakes his head. “I should have known you would feel hemmed in.”

“You said you liked seeing this side of me!”

“Sure, I do. At work.”

“Oh, and when I come home I'm supposed to be submissive? I hope you don't expect me to cook for you, too, because you'll be severely disappointed.”

“Jesus, Diane! Of course I don't expect that. We wouldn't be sitting here if I wanted any of those things and you know that as well as I do.” He eyes her warily. “You've gotten quieter and quieter as the morning's gone on. That's my M.O, not yours. So tell me what's bothering you.”

She isn’t sure how to explain herself to Kurt, other than a tiny seed of discomfort in her gut. The last couple years, she’s seen a lot of change in her life and she should want this, Kurt’s steadying presence. “I’ve never lived with anyone.”

It’s a simple statement for such a large admission.

She expects Kurt’s eyes to go wide, the questions to begin. Instead he simply swallows, nods, and takes her hand in his. “Okay. Then it’s even more important for you to feel comfortable with the place we pick.”

 _We._ It sends a thrill up her spine. “I love you.”

He waves the waiter down for the check. “Right now, we have one more place to see.”

Diane isn’t sure what he’s talking about because they’ve viewed everything on their list. He drives them back to Oak Park. Diane’s gaze falls to a woman in workout gear pushing a stroller. Maybe her hesitation is they feel about thirty years too old for this neighborhood, which is full of young families with money. She’s so focused on the woman, she doesn’t realize they’ve reached their destination until Kurt speaks up. “You ready?” He reaches over to take her hand, her gaze steadying her, reading her well enough to know she was buried in thought about how things could have been, if their lives had gone differently.

She nods, stepping out of his truck, noticing the impressive Tudor they’ve parked by before she focuses on the house next door, a more modest English-style cottage. “It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” Kurt asks, confused, before noticing what she’s looking at. “No, no, no.” He steps behind her, his hands gentle on her shoulders as he steers her towards the Tudor.

“You’re kidding.” She says breathlessly.

“It’s not even on the market yet,” he replies proudly. “But I had a feeling, so I pulled some strings.”

The exterior of the house is large and imposing. It is way too big for just the two of them, but she bites her tongue, knowing Kurt has gone to the trouble of finding something he thinks she’ll like.

It’s a sweet gesture and nothing will take away from that, but before they step inside, Diane tries to reel in her expectations. A lot of these older homes haven’t been updated and it’s always unclear what you’ll find inside. Cheap wood paneling, wallpaper from the 1970s, rooms chopped into smaller and smaller portions when the house once served as apartments.

Kurt enters a code into the lockbox. “I’m impressed,” she comments. “I thought our realtor hated us.” The woman's eyes kept growing larger and larger as they both put in their requests, often opposing, for what they wanted.

The foyer isn’t as impressive as she hoped for a house of this size, but it’s serviceable. Wood floors and the walls painted in Georgian style colors. She catches a peek of a sitting room to the left. Whoever lives here is using the built-in bookshelves as a showcase for various dishes and collectibles, which makes Diane cringe, but imagining them replaced with books would make the entrance homier and less cluttered.

For now, she ignores the dining area which is just beyond and turns back towards Kurt, who is watching her from the entryway. “It has potential.”

He gestures behind him. “Come see the living room.”

Diane steps past him and her breath catches in her throat. There’s a large bay window which looks out onto the front lawn and opposite that, a fireplace. Depending on how it’s decorated, it could be a stately focal point or a cozy space for just the two of them. “This is much better,” she remarks with restrained optimism, which is rewarded by one of Kurt’s rare grins.

“I thought you might like it.”

There are five bedrooms upstairs, which seems double or triple what they need. The master is nice enough, it includes a fireplace, but the best part about it is the adjoining sitting area, which looks out over the backyard and to the distant cityscape beyond. There's another bedroom right next to the master and Kurt knocks along the shared wall. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to tell if this is a load bearing wall or not. If it isn't, we could knock it down and open this up into a larger master.” She chuckles. “What?”

“You had to get construction in somewhere.” Off his look, she continues, “I'm not objecting to a bigger bedroom.” Diane knows the light from the windows will be heavenly in the mornings. Her stomach flips as she imagines herself, half dressed for work and wandering around looking for a missing earring, when Kurt reaches out to snag her wrist and pull her back to bed. As if reading her thoughts, Kurt pulls her close, the two of them embracing in the hall, the five bedrooms spread out around them. “But,” she ventures, biting her lip.

“But?” He looks surprised that she could object to any of this.

“Do you know anything about construction?”

His brow furrows. “I only built my own barn, Diane.”

She swallows, eyes widening in wonder. “You built it?” As often as they can read each other so well, Diane is always surprised when there are big pieces of Kurt's life she doesn't know yet. She knows it's the same for him with her.

He nods quietly, showing his usual modesty. “I'm not saying I would be the one doing the work here, but I know enough to know whether somebody is trying to rip me off.” It comes as a relief to know she won't have to worry about plumbing or electricity or construction, subjects which she knows nothing about.

“I'm afraid the boards of Emily's List and Planned Parenthood might jump out of these walls for me saying this, but I'm really glad you're going to be around to take care of those things!” She lets out an unbridled laugh and Kurt joins in.

“I'm really glad I'm going to be around for the things I _know_ you like doing.” He intones in that deep vibrato of his. The way he's looking at her doesn't help.

A shiver passes through her body and she arches an eyebrow, dropping her voice. “Oh, trust me. I'm glad about that too.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only been a couple weeks, but they're good at this. Being together. She still doesn't understand why she was running away from him for so long.

Since the Tudor isn't technically on the market yet, Diane finds herself still browsing through house listings online. Kurt is convinced it's a done deal. He called their realtor after they left and said they were prepared to make an offer.

Oak Park isn't cheap, she knows, but she's surprised at the prices of other houses in the area. They have fewer bedrooms and are in the upper range of their agreed upon budget. As she gets a better lay of the land, so to speak, her stomach sinks. She knows Kurt is doing all of this for her and while she's touched at the grand gesture, it's all starting to seem a little much. Much like the rest of his values, he's fiscally conservative and after the Rindell scandal, she's much more reticent about spending money as lavishly as she may have in the past. As wonderful as it is, the reality is, the house is too big for them and she knows they could find a smaller place where they would both be happy. Kurt doesn't need to impress her with the biggest house on the block. She simply wants his company and for them to really try this, being married, like he said.

She lets out a sigh before she calls for him, already expecting the disappointment on his face. When he sidles into the doorway, she smiles. He takes in the sight of her, reading glasses on, the laptop open but set aside for the moment. “You've changed your mind,” he says simply.

Being contradicted always brings out the lawyer in her, the fighter, but she remembers the situation and softens her response. “Not about this, not about you,” she replies softly. “But I want to talk about the house.” He sighs but crosses to the bed and perches on the edge by her feet, listening. “It's...no one has ever done something like this for me and I appreciate the gesture, but you think it's what I need. And I wanted to say it isn't. I don't need a million dollar house. As long as I'm coming home to you, I'll be happy.”

Now Kurt looks thoroughly confused. He squints at her. “But you liked the place, right?”

“I did,” she assures him. “Very much. I'm saying I don't _need_ it.”

“I'm failing to see the problem here.”

“I guess I feel...” she searches for the right word. “Uncomfortable with the idea of you, us spending so much money on a house because you think I need it to be happy. I'm saying I would be happy without the house. It's just something to consider. I mean, I know this place is small.” She gestures to her apartment. “But we're doing all right, aren't we? There's not a rush.”

“Diane.” Kurt says, trying to stop her babbling. He puts a finger to her lips and kisses her. It's an effective way to shut her up. She isn't sure how they've known each other for years, but every time he kisses her, it leaves her senseless. “I've been planning to sell the lab,” he says casually. This, too, takes her by surprise. He's already given up so much to finally make this work.

“What? Why?”

He shrugs. “Don't need it anymore. I'll have access to the FBI lab.”

“True, but what if you hate the FBI and want to quit? Go back to your old job? Your own business?”

He shakes his head as if it isn't a possibility. “I'll survive. It's only for a couple years until I retire anyway.”

“You're planning on retiring?” Kurt is a couple years younger than her, but she had never envisioned either of them slowing down any time soon. Sure, she was considering retirement a couple years ago. Stepping down, moving abroad, writing her memoir, but now she can scarcely imagine it. There's too much to do. She looks at him over her glasses. “I'm realizing we've never talked about this.”

“No, I guess we haven't.” His thumb strokes the inside of her wrist. “You're going to keep working?”

“Yes, at least another two to three years. Maybe five. I feel good.” _I want to see another Democrat in the Oval Office_ , she thinks. There are some things she and Kurt don't talk about. She's confused about why he wants to buy a house here if he's planning on retiring. “If you're going to retire, you don't have to stay in Chicago. I know it's not your favorite place.”

“But if you're going to be working, I want to be here. That was kind of the whole point of this living together thing,” he says with a smirk.

She smiles, puts a hand to his cheek. “I know. But why spend all this money on a place if we don't need to stay in Chicago?”

Kurt looks as if this had never occurred to him. “You don't want to stay in Chicago?”

“I could,” she says carefully, thinking of the friends she's made here. It's true, her whole community is here, but her community has changed a lot in the last few years. First, her friends who didn't approve of her marriage to Kurt and then the friends who abandoned her in the face of the Rindell scandal. Things are better now, but it's not the same as what she once had. “But I don't _need_ to be here. We could go anywhere.”

“I see.” He raises his eyebrows for a moment, taking this all in.

“We could finally take that trip to Costa Rica.” She suggests slyly.

“You can't say things like that.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Because then I picture you in a bikini.”

“I wasn't joking.” She takes his face in her hands and pulls him in for a kiss. He reaches up to slip off her glasses before kissing her back, the weight of his body pressing hers back into the pillows until she pulls him down with her.

“You'd really go to Costa Rica?” he manages to ask in between kisses.

“Why not?” she grins. “Isn't that what you're supposed to do when you retire? Travel? We could be in Costa Rica one week, France the next.”

“I like the sound of that.” He intones, his breath against her neck, as he starts a trail of kisses. She takes in a sharp breath at his mouth on her skin and the tickle of his mustache sends a jolt up her spine.

*

Diane wakes later, the room dark and the bed cold. She frowns, not remembering Kurt leaving. Sitting up, she reaches for her glasses and slips into a robe before heading downstairs. She finds him on his knees in the living room in front of a small, flickering fire. He hears her behind him and turns, sitting back on his heels. “I'm surprised you're up. You were pretty knocked out.”

“I thought you'd gone.”

He shakes his head. “Couldn't sleep is all.” Of course his reaction to not being able to sleep was building a fire. She's never even used the fireplace and she's lived here for over a year. She pulls her robe tighter around her and squeezes his shoulder as she brushes by him before settling on the couch. He kneels in front of the fireplace again, poking the wood with a stick, trying to get the fire to catch. She doesn't say anything, just sits back and admires the view. “I can feel you watching me,” he jokes.

“Can you blame me?” He doesn't say anything, but finally stands and turns to look at her, a wry grin spreading across his face. Joining her on the couch, she settles back against his chest, his arm wrapped around her and his thumb stroking at her hip. It's only been a couple weeks, but they're good at this. Being together. She still doesn't understand why she was running away from him for so long.

“So we're back at square one with the house.” It's part statement, part question.

“I told you what I think. How are you feeling about it?”

“I think we should still pull the trigger on this place. Even if we're only there for a few years.”

Diane looks at him, surprised, but his face is solid and sure. He's never doubted this, them, as much as she has. “But-”

“Shh,” he hushes her. “You don't have to worry about me. I know I don't make as much as you, but I've saved quite a bit over the years and at this point, it's not going to anyone. You're my beneficiary, you know.”

Laughter bubbles up in her throat. “Using legalese to win me over?” she arches a brow at him.

“Did it work?” His voice is eager, almost childlike.

“Yes,” she says finally. “Let's put in a bid on the house.”

“Thank god,” he breathes. “Because I already put a down payment on it.”

“What!?” She yelps. “Kurt!” Diane is about to launch into a lecture about how if they're going to be a team, he can't go making big life decisions without her input, but when she sees the way he's grinning at her, she just shakes her head. “I can't believe you.” She tugs on his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

“I love you, too,” he replies, murmuring against her mouth. His hand slips inside the folds of her robe and his fingers brush along her skin.

Between the fire and the heat between the two of them, Diane feels flushed. “Take it off, please.” She instructs him.

“My pleasure.” A smile curling up into his mustache. He slowly unties the belt on her robe and pushes the fabric back, his eyes raking over her body in a way that makes her stomach flip. He stands, motioning for her to follow. Facing him, the robe billowing around her, he turns her back to him and slips the robe off over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a whisper. His hands trace from her shoulders, down her back, landing at her hips with a squeeze before his mouth meets her neck. She lets out a hiss and wraps her calf around his. It's unfair, him still fully clothed, and Kurt seems to realize it the same time she does. She turns towards him, tugging at the hem of his cotton shirt, and he raises his arms, letting her lift it over his head. Her fingers dance along the top of the sweatpants he's wearing and Kurt closes his eyes, letting out a low growl. “Stop dawdling.”

“What?” she says breathlessly, trying to sound innocent. “I'm just admiring.” With that she slips a hand inside his pants, her fingers stroking him, and he bucks against her.

“Fuck,” he breathes. One of his hands has crept down from her hip and settled on her ass. He grips her, drawing her closer as she continues to touch him, to tease. When he can't stand it any longer, he pushes her back towards the couch, a satisfied smirk playing across her lips. “Your turn,” he says gruffly, his hand between her legs, a moan escaping when he finds her already wet. “Goddamnit, woman.” They don't use terms of endearment, but Kurt had once come home to find she had almost burned down his house trying to cook dinner and he'd yelled and called her 'woman'. With anyone else, she would be offended, but it became a private joke between the two of them.

She laughs, knowing he's frustrated but in the best way possible. “Hold on,” she says, trying to rearrange them.

“Hold on!?” he asks incredulously, but reading her mind, he slips down onto the couch, letting her straddle him. Her hands are pressed against his chest, his hands firm on her hips. She starts to lift herself slightly, her breath catching as she settles down onto him. She pauses for a long time, her eyes studying his, before rolling her hips forward. He hisses, a hand drawing up to her neck, pulling her closer as they fall into a familiar rhythm.

Afterwards, she curls up next to him, both of them sweaty and sated. His hand rubs gentle circles at the small of her back. She brushes hair back from her eye and winks at him. “Much more relaxing than hot yoga.”

“Diane,” he murmurs, embarrassed. He's so animalistic in the moment, but pious afterwards. It's adorable. She tucks her head against his shoulder and both of them are quiet, watching the fire.

“Let me know how much the down payment was,” she says later. “I can give you half.”

“I appreciate that, but we don't have to split things evenly because we're married. Sometimes I'm going to do more for you and that's okay. And sometimes you'll do more for me and that's okay, too. It's not always an even balance.”

Diane reaches over to run her fingers through his hair. “You're right,” she admits. “It's natural instinct for me, I guess.”

“I know,” he nods. “We're learning.”

“We are,” she agrees, stifling a yawn.

“You go on up. I'll be there in a minute when the fire dies down.”

She shakes her head. “No, I'll wait for you.” She doesn't mention she's already grown used to him being there and would much rather feel him nestle up against her back than go to bed alone. When Kurt has checked the fire twice to make sure it's out, both of them climb the stairs to her bedroom. Diane is leading the way and about halfway up, she stops and turns towards him, a smile playing across her face. “I can't believe you bought me a house.” Kurt chuckles, pleased by her delight.

“Come on, woman,” he teases. “Let's get you to bed.”

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
